The H In My Name Does Not Stand For Holmes
by Ocean of Dawn
Summary: In which, John writes a blog entry ranting about how an Interpol Detective misunderstood the H in his name as Holmes, and forgets to make the entry password-protected. Slashy, if you like it in that flavour.


THE PERSONAL BLOG OF

Dr. John H. Watson

26th August

The H In My Name Does Not Stand For Holmes

It was bad that the press calls me a 'confirmed bachelor' one time and keeps insinuating things that are NOT on countless other occasions, but the last straw came to me in the form of an Interpol Detective from China Division. She came to London because of a case which due to the Official Secrets Act – again – I could not divulge too much information. Never mind this blog entry is actually password protected. And private. And only for my own eyes.

But, yes, there is no doubt in my mind that it is indeed a very interesting case. It involved an art thief. A male art thief disguising as a woman who managed to acquire a fake passport, fool the customs and landed himself in London. He had in his hands a scroll from one of the ancient dynasties in China that belonged to the National Museum of China. He had stolen it, obviously. And the authorities involved wanted it back, but matters were complicated by the fact that the art thief was a master of disguise (to quote N's words 'a man of a thousand faces') and had a very peculiar and almost outrageous ability of being able to dislocate, rearrange and relocate his joints as he wishes, and somehow in that process he could actually control the length of his limbs and the height of his person. Really, quite amazing!

In the beginning, N – the Interpol Detective – came to Sherlock for help, through DI [Name Blackened Out]. It was MORE than a three-patch problem for Sherlock, although he would never admit it. At that time, we didn't know about the thief's ability to change his physical proportions, and to start with everybody got the thief's gender wrong (female disguise; previous paragraph). In the end, though it took some time, we managed to catch the thief after dodging maybe a dozen flying daggers, blow up an illegal, underground auction house and of course retrieve the antique scroll.

To close the case, as always, Sherlock and I needed to fill up some forms and sign statements. It was formality and nothing out of the ordinary. So, I didn't know what came over me at that moment to sign my name as John H. Watson (usually, it's always ONLY John Watson). In retrospect, it was a lapse of judgment, a very bad one. Hence, the need for this blog entry.

N, thought the H in my name stands for Holmes. She was handling the statements required by the China Division and she saw how I signed my name. Maybe I should explain that though N is very fluent in English, and we have no problem communicating, she obviously is not familiar with the concept of middle names, being Asian I suppose she might have confused middle names and joint surnames for spouses. DESPITE having no difficulties in understanding everything else. Sherlock speaks very fast and has a very extensive vocabulary when it comes to making cutting remarks. It might be hard for a non-native English speaker to follow, I don't know, might be, should be? But from her scowl every time Sherlock made a rude comment directed to her, I know she _understands_. But why doesn't she understand that the H in my name stands for my middle name (Hamish) and not the joint-surname she thought.

If she kept her thought to herself, I didn't need this blog entry but fact was, she voiced it. She VOICED it in the middle of a conference room filled with Scotland Yard Police Officers. I was shocked to hear such audacity, so I stammered in response, not because I was embarrassed to have my marital status revealed (Not that there was anything to reveal). I can hear her words in my head like I just heard it.

'_Dr. John H. Watson, Dr. John Holmes Watson, you are married to Mr. Holmes." _

She said it as a statement.

I couldn't remember my response but it wouldn't be anything intelligent. The shock on my face was mirrored by the other police officers, but Sergeant [Name Blackened Out] had to say 'why [pause] you and freak'. 'Why' not 'What'. I know what she meant. 'Why would you marry the freak?' was the complete question and the word freak being punctuated. Of course I was horrified by her belief that Sherlock and I were that way (despite no prior indication during our dealings with Scotland Yard) but it also angered me to think that she thought no one would want Sherlock. He died for me. For three long years, he died for me and people he cared for deeply.

She didn't know him. She didn't know that beneath that high-functioning sociopath crap is a beating heart capable of feelings so deep and strong that could induce its owner to go for the extremes to protect the people he held close to that heart. I lost my temper, really I did. Sherlock dying as a fake and then resurrecting as a hero has always been a spot of bother and a source of doubt for some of the officers at Scotland Yard. Not many would call him 'freak' in the face, perhaps for fear of Sherlock retaliating by divulging their most private, embarrassing details, but I don't need Sherlock's deductive skills to know that many of them find him unpleasant.

I don't want to repeat what I said to Sergeant [Name Blackened Out] in this entry but it went along the lines of her not being able to see a man for what he's worth and Sherlock's a hundred times above her league. I might have implied her bad taste in men and the general incompetence of Scotland Yard. I think I might call DI [Name Blackened Out] later and apologize for my outburst. He's a good man, very competent in his job and he is good to Sherlock.

I was still fuming by the time I stormed out of Scotland Yard. When I looked at Sherlock who was striding beside me who, surprisingly, had kept quiet during the entire time – that grin on his face – made me want to punch him in the face. How I wished he would offer me the chance.

I snapped at him. What was so funny about being misunderstood? Being considered by others as a person not worthy of love and marriage?

He began to hum a tune. He began to _bloody_ hum a tune. Then he said, 'you did not deny that you were married to me.'

God, god, god! What I felt as an onset of a migraine became a full-blown throbbing sensation. I didn't realize that. I didn't bloody realize that I had not set the record straight. Had not clarified. I was about to turn on my heel and charged back into Scotland Yard, throw my hands in the air and shout at the top my lungs that 'I am not GAY' and definitely not married to Sherlock when he put his hands on my shoulder.

Then everything else receded into the background. All sounds and sights. He squeezed my shoulders and I looked into his eyes. They were clear and grey. I admit I could not always tell the meanings held by each and every gaze of Sherlock but instinctively, I knew he wanted me to stay where I was. So I did and waited.

He made a little pout and smiled. A genuine smile that made him stupidly young and he gave me a hug. His hair tickling my neck and I heard him say 'thank you'. I wasn't sure what for but I accepted it nevertheless, and hugged him back.

I gave him a pat on the back of his head and I felt the anger, the panic, everything negative I was feeling leave my body. Somehow, Sherlock makes things right. When we first met, he fixed the broken man which was me. When he came back alive, he made it, me, things, everything right again.

Sherlock is my best friend. There is no way to replace the void in my life if he's gone. _Then he had to ruin the moment._

'You know we are not that far away from the Scotland Yard building and the way we arrange our limbs around each other might make it hard for them to believe that you are not Dr. John Holmes Watson. If you still wish to explain, of course. I am perfectly fine with the way it is."

God! I should have punched him. I seriously considered making this blog entry free for public viewing so as to make sure everyone knows that the H in my name does not stand for Holmes, but I have a nagging suspicion that readers would take the fact that two best friends hugged out of context and conjure some kind of homoerotic subtext from it.

Password protected, then. Final.

9 Comments

_Don't be silly, Dr. H. Watson. Of course, I will take the hug out of context. And, I am very familiar with the concept of middle names. Despite being Asian._

_The reason I thought the two of you were married was because you behaved like a married couple. Mr. Holmes wanted your constant attention and you gave him constant attention. When I was at your flat to discuss the details of the case, I was almost too shy to look at the two of you. _

_But I do apologize for having said what I said at the wrong time and place and had offended you. That was unprofessional of me._

_P.S. You made it clear that this blog is password-protected but I can still read it. _

Nuo 27August 10:22

_I have to agree with Nuo on this, John. For a moment (until I read this blog entry), I believed you two were married and was offended that you didn't tell me. We are friends after all. _

Greg L 27August 10:45

_I can make a toast during the reception if you need me. After all I introduced the two of you. Congratulations, mate! ; )_

Mike Stamford 27August 11: 30

_John, please do convince Sherlock that a proper wedding must take place. Mummy would prefer it that way._

Mycroft H 27August 12:00

_I don't suppose you will be needing the second bedroom now. You young lads sure took a long time._

Mrs. Hudson 27August 12:15

_Bollocks! I forgot to password protect the entry! And why does everyone now think Sherlock and I are tying the knot?_

John Watson 27August 13: 40

_I am fine with the way it is._

Sherlock Holmes 27August 13: 50

_What?_

John Watson 27August 13: 55

_You being Dr. John Holmes Watson._

Sherlock Holmes 27August 14: 22

*END*


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